Phantom families
by Phantom-Shalnark
Summary: Who were their parents? Why are they where they are now? Read these shorts to learn about the past, and how these people shaped the future of the Genei Ryodan - the parents of the Phantom Troupe. R
1. Kururo of Kikyo and Fai

"...When you said surprise, Kikyo, that wasn't what I was expecting."

The room was warm and cozy, with an oak floor and grey walls, a large stone fireplace in the wall nearest to the doorway. A long, velvet couch was laid out in front of it on top of the red carpet, and books were scattered in piles everywhere.

Fai stood, staring at his beautiful wife, her long black hair in a high ponytail down to her waist, her dark purple eyes gleaming on her pale skin, and her rosy cheeks soft. She was wearing nothing but her black lingerie, with a fluffy black coat floor length hanging off of her elbows. Very different from his black turtleneck, white pants and brown loafers.

It was what she was holding that was so strange.

It was a new born infant, with closed eyes and tiny black hair, wrapped in newspaper. Kikyo smirked. "You thought I was going to go easy on you? It's your fault we have it." Fai sighed, and pushed his black framed glasses further up his face.

Kikyo glared at him. "You said you were protected." Fai returned the look. "You said you weren't drunk. Looks like we both lied." He glanced at the child. He looked nothing like him, anyway. It didn't have his long sandy blonde hair, now in a long ponytail hanging over his shoulder, or his grey eyes, or anything.

"Are you sure he's mine," He chuckled, "or our neighbours?" Kikyo stuck her tongue out at him. "Honestly, Fai, I'm wed to you and no one else. I leave for nine months on a vacation, and you don't expect me to bring back a baby? How will mother react?"

"She won't," he pushed his glasses up again, "she died of a heart attack while you were away. Running our book store and taking calls isn't that hard without you, you know." Kikyo rolled her eyes. "Well, now what do we do with Kururo?"

Fai cocked an eyebrow. "Kururo? Is that his name?" Kikyo nodded. "Yes. Look, I just had him a few days ago on my trip, I had time to kill, so I named him. Is that so bad?" Fai shook his head slowly. "No, I suppose not...but why Kururo?"

Kikyo poked the baby's nose. "After your grandfather, you dummy. Kururo Mane, remember?" Fai smiled. "Ah, yes...I also remember him being a murderer. Is that what you want our child to be? A killer amongst the streets?"

Kikyo held the baby out for Fai to take. "I don't care if he becomes a president. We're not keeping him." Fai took the child in his arms. "We're not? Oh, a shame, that it. Who else shall runt he shop when we die?"

Kikyo let her coat fall to the wooden ground. "Whatever, just do something with it." She rested her hands on her hips. "...What about the dump?" Fai stared at her. "The dump, darling?" Kikyo shrugged. "Why not dump him?"

Fai thought about it. It was true that if they dumped the baby, it would either die, or be taken to the garbage city, Meteor city. "I suppose that would work, but...if you didn't want him, why have him? Why name him?"

Kikyo seemed to ponder these things. "...How bad would it look if I aborted my child because I didn't feel like it? No one would buy anything from our shop ever again." She walked over and leaned in close to him.

"Let's just forget about him." She pulled his face in and kissed him, her black lipstick cold. Moving away, she let herself fall onto the couch, where she laid out. "Do it quickly, though, so no one sees you."

"And you," Fai said, "what shall you do?" Kikyo picked up the closest book to her, and opened it the middle pages. "I'm going to catch up on my reading thank you. You know how I love the religious classics."

Fai sighed. "Always leaving me with the work." He walked out of the room, and out the front door of the closed shop. He stood outside, and looked down at the baby, who's grey eyes were staring back at him. "Huh, go figure. He has my eyes after all."

It was a quick trip. He walked a few minutes until he reached the outside of the dump. No one was around, so he walked in through the open gates, and stood over an old abandoned baby carriage, with pink material and white lace on the edges.

"That'll do, I guess." He carefully placed the baby into the carriage, and noticed something. On the newspaper he was wrapped in, someone had written "KURURO" on it with a permanent black marker.

"Well done, Kikyo, well done."

The baby began to wail, and Fai sighed. Pushing his glasses up, he walked away, until the crying was distant.

"Heh, that would have been annoying to read with."


	2. Machi of Myami, and little Terri, too

"Honestly, the nerve of some people."

The room was a dingy yellow colour, with cracked cement flooring, and the only furniture being a wooden picnic table. A single light bulb hung from a wire, creating a dim light in the room. Smoke lingered in the air.

Myami sat at the edge of the bench, her smoke nearly gone. She inhaled, lifted it from her mouth, and blew out a puff of smoke through her dark red lips. She dropped the cigarette on the floor, and crushed it with her green flip-flops.

Her short pink hair hadn't been brushed in days, and her yellow tank top over her blue shorts was covered in stains from her last lunch – a burnt hotdog. Her black eyes gazed out the tiny window in front of her, looking out into the streets.

"I'll get him for this," She grabbed her beer bottle beside her and took a swing before slamming it back down on the ground. "TERRI!" Her voice echoed through the grimy halls. A few seconds later, a young girl walked out, carrying a small infant in her arms. "Yes, mother?"

Her long pink hair was in a long braid down her back, with a tiny yellow hair clip at the side of her head. She was wearing a faded blue, flowery dress, and white socks with a few holes in them. Her black eyes rested on Myami's beer.

"...Mother, doctor Spurn told you not to drink so late at night." Myami rolled her eyes. "Like I care. So, what do you wanna do with her?" She pointed to the tiny, pink haired baby Terri held against her chest. Terri sighed. "I don't know...care for her? She is my sister."

"Half sister, doll-face," Myami took another shot of her beer, "Matsuda was your daddy, and that jerk-wod Toro was this one's." Terri looked down at the baby. "...Can I name my half sister?" Myami snickered. "Sure, go wild."

The baby opened her eyes, and began to cry. "Myami," Terri held the baby up, "...Machi wants you." Myami ignored her. "Peasant Toro...couldn't get a job if someone paid him to sharpen pencils!..." Terri held the baby down again.

"Say," Myami turned to Terri, "why not send her up stream, where some boater can find her?" Terri gasped. "Why, mother?" Myami snorted. "Cuz I already have you to feed and make money for me, I don't need another one...Machi?"

Terri nodded. "After our best customer." Myami sighed. "Don't care. Just dump her somewhere, someone else will find her. Maybe even Toro will." She chuckled. "That'd be hilarious." Terri sighed. "Yes, mother."

She walked out of the room, and out of their shack. Looking down at Machi, she smiled. "I don't want to leave you...oh!" She raced back inside to find Myami holding a new bottle of beer. "Mother, what about that city you told me about?"

Myami looked over at her. "What?...Oh, you mean Meteor city, huh? Yeah, I'd guess that would work." Terri smiled. "How do we get her there?" Myami smirked. "Just dump her off somewhere, I guess. Try our garbage can, that should work."

Terri ran outside again, and Myami frowned. "Honestly! He could have at least told me he wasn't ready. I've already got a sower for a daughter to make me dough, like I need two of them!"

Terri lifted off the lid of their garbage can, and, stepping onto a cardboard box, gently placed Machi inside of it.  
"There you go, sissy." She giggled. "I never thought I'd be able to call someone that." Machi looked up at her with her big, pink eyes. "You're lucky, Machi, you have such pretty eyes. They're like pink diamonds!"

She thought for a moment. All Machi had was a pink blanket she was wrapped in. "I know!" Terri jumped off of the box and ran back inside. Quickly, she took her sowing kit, which she used to fix up people's clothes for money, and ran back outside.

She spent the next few minutes carefully sowing Machi's name, birthday and blood type - who knew when that would come in handy? - into the blanket. She finished up in ten minutes or so, and took her sowing kit back inside. Carefully, she placed Machi back into the garbage, just as an older gentleman walked up to her.

"This your trash?"

Terri nodded. "And my sister, too! Oh, half-sister." The old man rubbed the back of his balding head. "Oh, sure, okay then. I'd better be careful with this one." Closing the lid over the trash can, but leaving a slight opening for air, the man dragged the trash can away.

"Bye-bye!" Terri waved to the old man. "Good luck, Machi!...Don't forget to try sowing, our family is really good at that! It runs in the blood!"


	3. Nobunaga of Borodo and Safia

"I don't care if it looks like me, I don't want it!"

Borodo grumbled to himself as he cleaned off his oldest samurai sword. He carefully wiped the edge of the tip with an old blue cloth. The metal shone brightly under the lantern light in his small workshop, filled with tables covered in different weapons and tools.

He looked up to see that a young woman was standing beside him, her black hair in a tight bun over her pale skin and black eyes decorated by dark red eyeshadow and dark ruby lips. She was wearing a fine, dark red kimono, decorated with various lilacs and sunflowers.

"Please, Borodo," She sighed, "why not?" Borodo mumbled some gibberish under his breath, and sighed. "Safia, how old are you now?" The woman became quiet. "...Twenty." Borodo smirked. "And how old am I now?" Again, a small silence. "...Seventy."

He smiled. "There you go. So, how will it look if we walk around with our baby?" She glanced down at the infant she was holding, wrapped in a black linen cloth, with short black hair and dark raven black eyes that tried to take everything in.

"He looks like you," She tried to reason with Borodo, "you know, you used to have black hair before it went white, and you grew a long white beard, and started wearing light coloured robes and no shoes." Borodo snorted. "Yeah, we're identical."

He placed his sword and cloth on the table in front of him. "Look, Safia, when we got married two years ago, I told you plain as day that I didn't want children. I said that if we ever had one, we'd give it to your family, since mine decided to croak."

Safia drew out her lower lip. "My family is so mean, though. They're the reason I married you, so I wouldn't have to live with them anymore. I don't want them raising our child." She hugged the baby, and it cooed.

"Can I name him after you?"

Borodo looked up at her. "What? Me? You want our child to be named Borodo?" Safia chuckled. "No, silly, your middle name, from your father." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. Nobunaga... you want to name our child Nobunaga? My father used his skills as one of the best samurai to fight for the strangest reasons, murdering innocent people, stealing thousands."

Safia cuddled the infant, who began to fall asleep. "I know about your father. He married us before he...croaked. I doubt our baby will ever become like him." Borodo snickered. "Oh, I'm sure OUR child will be just like his grandfather."

Safia crouched down beside him. "Please, Borodo, tell me what to do with him. I want him to live, not with any of our family, and now that you won't let me raise him, he's got no where else to go. What do we do with Nobunaga?"

Borodo yawned, and thought for a moment. "...Safia, go and bring me a piece of paper and my old feather pen and ink jar." Nodding, she placed Nobunaga on the table, and walked out of the room. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying the supplies.

Taking the paper and inked pen, Borodo began to write out Nobunaga onto the page. Safia watched him intently as he wrote out the birthday, as well. "Whatever are you doing, Borodo?" Borodo smiled at her. "Getting him ready for his trip."

Taking a piece of string from the table behind him, Borodo tied the paper up into a scroll, and tucked it into the cloth Nobunaga was wrapped in. "There," He smirked, "now he's ready to go to his new home."

Safia picked Nobunaga up. "Where is his new home going to be, Borodo?" Borodo stroked his beard. "An old friend of mine told me once of a large city, out in the middle of nowhere, said to take in anything you don't desire."

Safia giggled. "It sounds too good to be true." Borodo sighed. "Well, it ain't a perfect city, filled with garbage and strange people. However, if Nobunaga were to be sent there, and happened to survive his trip – due to my strong blood, of course – he'd be taken care of just fine."

Safia wrapped the cloth tighter around the infant. "This old friend of yours...it wouldn't happen to be that man Netero, would it?" Borodo sneered. "Perhaps. Now, take...Nobunaga, and place him with the rest of the trash, then drop it off with the neighbours, so it doesn't look like ours."

Safia nodded, and stood up. As she walked out of the room, she quickly turned back. "Maybe we could abandon him with one of your hand made swords, Borodo." Borodo gawked at her. "You want to give a baby a sword?! What on Earth did they teach you at your house?"

She smiled. "I meant for when he grew up." She walked out of the room, leaving the bamboo door slightly ajar. Borodo glanced back at his cleaned sword.

"...Hmph. If he wants a sword so badly, he'll just make one. He does have my blood running through him."


	4. Uvogin of Mar and Claven

"Hey, he wasn't my idea."

Mar threw his ten pound weight up in the air, and caught it with ease, again and again. He had decided to work outside that night, under the stars in the tiny backyard of his small house in the middle of the town.

He caught the weight one last time, and dropped it onto the ground. Turning, he faced a very tall woman in front of him. She had very short red hair that matched her hazel eyes and dark lips. Wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and blue jeans, just like him, she tapped her bare foot against the ground.

"Wasn't your idea?" Her British accent sent chills up Mar's spine when she yelled. "Wasn't YOUR idea?! He wasn't mine, either, Mar!" Mar groaned, and rubbed his army cut brown hair back. "Please, Claven, do we need to argue about him? He's here, that's that."

She glared into his blue eyes. "You, sir, are stubborn, pig-headed, and much too caring about kids." Mar furrowed his brow. "Too caring about kids? What's that supposed to mean?" Claven smirked, and poked his large muscles. They both stood at about 7.2 feet, so she was a tad intimidating.

"Look, here, you softie," Claven slurred her words, "I saw you. Every time I turn my back on Uvogin, you're cuddling him, feeding him, or reading to him. Don't go and try to tell me that you don't love kids."

Mar felt his cheeks go hot. "Yeah, well..." Claven backed off a bit, and smiled. "And that's why I love you, you big bear." Her smile faded, though. "But..." Mar saw the worry and dread in her eyes as they looked away from him.

"Claven, what's wrong?" Claven looked up at him again. "We can't keep him, Mar." Mar felt his heart sink. "What? Why on Earth not?" Uvogin may not have been expected, but it wasn't like he was any trouble to them. He was their child.

Claven looked deep into his eyes. "You know the rules. We didn't ask to have him here, and because we can't leave, he's technically...not ours." Mar could feel his energy drain away. "No...it can't be...this can't be happening."

They had had Uvogin four weeks ago in the tiny hospital down the street in their small town. It was a secluded area, meant to hold in people who were considered unnatural to the outer towns. There were so many rules, how could he have forgotten about the no baring any children without permission?

"I know."

Mar glanced at Claven, who held her cold hands against his warm cheeks. "I know how much you love children, and I'm sure Uvogin will be just like you. He'll find a child to call his own, I promise, but not here."

He didn't understand. "What are you saying, Claven?" She only stared at him in silence. He looked around. It was quiet outside, the only sound being their own breathing. He peered over Claven's shoulder into the open door of their shack, a dim light in the hallway.

"...Where do we take him?" He spoke quickly, firmly. Claven nodded her head. "I know a place. We should hurry, before the night guards come around looking to take him away."

It took five minutes to get Uvogin ready and take him to the edge of the town, where a long, electric gate was surrounding the buildings, and a large metal gate was sealed shut. Two guards stood watch, eyeing them as they came closer.

"What do you want, Mr. And Mrs. Hitachi?" The blonde haired guard stepped forward, but Mar held his full hands up. "We just have some trash to throw out, that's all." The guards exchanged nods, and, locking in their two keys to the doors, pulled them open.

Outside the door to the right was a large green dumpster, where the townsfolk would dump their trash each week. Mar walked over to it, Claven keeping her eyes on the guards. He took their own trash bag, and threw it in, and slowly unwrapped the cloth around Uvogin's head while he held him tightly in his arms.

"Hey, there, buddy." Mar smiled as Uvogin stared up at him. "Heh, you've got your mom's eyes." Carefully, he placed Uvogin in a small cradle that their neighbours had thrown out, and tucked him in with the small piece of paper with his name and birth-date on it.

"You'll be just fine." Mar smiled warmly, and walked over and back into the town with Claven. The guards watched them as the walked away before closing the gates. Claven sighed, and held onto his arm.

"He'll be fine, Mar." Mar laughed. "You know, he's got a lot of you in him, too, Claven." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, really? Do the eyes have it?" Mar chuckled. "Other than your eyes. I bet he's got your protectiveness, too."

She glanced up at him. "Protectiveness? What do you mean?" He stared up at the sky. "You're a strong woman, Claven. That's why I fell in love with you before we were forced in here because we were considered giants to the outside world." She cocked her eyebrow. "So?"

He looked back down at her as they walked into the house. "So, with my love of children and your protectiveness and strength running through his veins, who knows-"

"-Maybe he'll even become a father in this "Meteor city" place."


	5. Feitan of Picco and Tuluu

"I sense great danger in his future."

Picco glanced up at his wife. She had her dark green hair strait down along her face, just tickling her shoulders, with a black headband keep it out of her grey eyes and off her very pale skin. She wore a dark red dress, Victorian style, covering everything except her hands and painted black nails.

She sat at a small round table covered in a white cloth, with a crystal ball in the centre. Across from her, a small infant was lying down in a small green wrapping, staring at the ceiling with its own grey eyes.

Her hands waved around the crystal, and she closed her eyes. "Yes, danger – like I've never seen before." She opened her eyes, and rested her hands on her lap. "This is very serious, Picco." He sighed, and stood up from his cream coloured resting sofa.

"What do you sense, Tuluu?" She looked him over. "Black shoes, white socks, black dress pants, dark blue long sleeved dress shirt under your black v-vest with a golden pocket watch, dreary purple eyes and your black hair neatly combed back."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?" She kept her stone cold face. "You remind me of the very man in his future – you shall kill our son." Picco sat down again, intrigued by her words. "Whatever do you mean, Tuluu? Shall I be the end of Feitan's string of life?"

Tuluu nodded. "I see you there. A knife, blood, everything. Why, I do not know yet. What I have made out is that you're not pleased with his birth. It angers you greatly." Picco leaned against his chair, and rubbed his temples.

"...You are correct, Tuluu. I am angry at Feitan's birth, and I suppose I would like to kill him." Tuluu rested her hands on her hands as she placed her elbows against the table. "Tell me more, Picco. I only want to make you happy."

Picco crossed his one leg over the other, and laid his own hands on his lap. "Tuluu, I married you because with your powers you saw that I would die a horrible death otherwise. I did marry you, but only to live."

Tuluu nodded again. "Yes, I understand this situation. But why kill Feitan over it?" Picco stared up at the dark blue ceiling, where star patterns were painted on. "...He will be nothing but yet another victim. I am a torturer in my spare time, after all."

Tuluu sighed. "Yes. I, the fortune teller, marrying you, the torturer, using our skills to make the money necessary to survive. A lovely life, no, but one that I do not regret." She smiled. "Your killer side attracts me to no end."

Picco smirked. "I, as well. I cannot control myself, and that is the problem – a curse." He looked down at his hands. "All I see is blood. I lust for the screams, the fear – torturing is my specialty, and I am in love with it, wed to both it and you, Tuluu."

Tuluu stood up, and walked over, picking up Feitan. "Well, then, shall you wish to kill him now? Or shall we spare him?" Picco shook his head. "No, no. You see, he's our bloodline, Tuluu." Tuluu sighed, and, walking over to him, sat down on a small wooden chair beside him.

"Please, Picco," Tuluu held Feitan close, "this child – what can he become?" Picco stared at the child, his small grey eyes darting around. "Why, he can become a weapon, a killer like me, creating fear as you do."

Tuluu smiled. "Ah, yes! Oh, Picco, it's wonderful! There truly aren't enough of us around." Picco chuckled. "Oh, but we are unique. The Chinese torturer to the Japanese fortune teller – we have made a child that is once in a lifetime, once in a world."

Tuluu looked down at Feitan. "Where, Picco? Where shall he be trained?" Picco stood, and helped Tuluu up. "Training? He'll need no training with my blood in him. However, he must be raised where he can come to see torturing, not as a family inheritance, but as a way of survival – he must treat it as a friend."

Tuluu gasped. "The fortune! There was a large city, should we follow your way and let him go. We must take him there, to the city of death, trash, blood, fear!" Picco smiled warmly at her. "Meteor city. Only the best of us go there to train. I, too, have gone before." He took Feitan gently in his arms. "Go, write his name on a piece of paper, and bring it back. I shall take him and leave him." Tuluu nodded, and walked away.

Picco glanced down at Feitan. "Let us hope you survive the trip. My lust can only be filled by regular torture, hearing the screams of anyone who can. You, my son...you shall be one of the greatest. Your fortune has been told, after all."

Tuluu came back, holding the paper. "You will go now?" Picco looked up, when the sudden sound of a gloomy doorbell rang through the room. He smiled.

"In the morning. First, I must fill my thirst."


	6. Franklin of Kenji and Nasuke

"We just don't have enough crops, Nasuke."

Nasuke turned to stare at Kenji. He was twiddling his thumbs as he rocked back and fourth on his rocking chair, his navy blue hair curly as it just reached his ears, and his green eyes starring out over the horizon.

He was wearing his dark blue overalls on top of his white shirt and brown working boots, and because he was so large, they had to make a new size for him down at the clothing shop. Nasuke felt safe around him.

"What do you mean," She spoke as she returned her attention to cleaning off the many pistols in his collection, "we have plenty of crops. One baby can't possibly be too much to feed, right?" He mumbled something, still looking out.

They were resting on the white balcony of their farm house, which overlooked their small crop land and red barn. A few chickens ran underfoot, and the occasional pig would 'oink' at them goodnight. Nasuke felt warm, so she only wore her long white short sleeved dress and black slippers.

Kenji turned to her, and looked down. Between them, rocking in a small cardboard box on a cradle bottom, was a baby with dull violet eyes, trying to fall asleep despite the many animals that kept calling out in the night.

"Nasuke, we can't keep Franklin, I'm afraid. Look around," he gestured to the crops, "we just don't have the means necessary to feed a baby, growing up to be a big man. You don't want another me walking around, anyways, do you?"

Nasuke snorted. "No, I suppose not." One of him was plenty for her, but losing their child would be hard. "Kenji, why not just cut down on the crops we give out?" Kenji shook his head. "Can't do that, darling."

He glanced back up at her. "Heh, he's got your eyes, you know. And I'll bet anything he'll have your hair, but he'd better not be putting it up in a couple of buns like you. I won't be having no girly man as my boy."

Nasuke sighed. "You still haven't answered my question. We have so many crops, why not bring in a bit more for ourselves?" Kenji held his fingers up. "The Tuna family has five children and their two grandmothers to care for. Mr. Guild has his three sons and their families to feed. We have each other to feed, and don't forget about the six people in the Lula family."

Nasuke looked down and watched Franklin grip the small wool blanket over him, his eyes finally closed. "I just don't want to leave him to starve or die, Kenji. Isn't there anything we can do?" Kenji thought for a few moments in silence.

"...Well, how about my home town?" Nasuke gasped. "You mean that horrible...Meteor city?! You're serous?" Kenji nodded. "Very. I grew up there just fine, and look at me now. Farming for a living. Why, I'll bet Franklin will be just as keen as I was to go into something big like this."

Nasuke thought about it. Franklin being raised in such a harsh environment was a risk, but...if Kenji thought it was a good idea..."Oh, alright, you old man." She smiled. "If we can't care for him, have one of your friends do so."

Kenji chuckled. "I know someone – Armani. He'll be more than happy. He owes me, anyways." He pointed to the house. "Say, Nasuke, go and bring me back the phone. I've got his number by memory. He's lucky enough to have a phone there."

Nasuke nodded, and, placing his pistols on the ground beside her chair, got up and walked back into the house. A moment later, she walked out with the phone, and handed it to him. "I'm taking Franklin in while you talk to your buddy. He should be sleeping inside in peace and quiet."

Kenji laughed as she picked Franklin up. "Once he's in Meteor city, peace and quiet will be a thing of the past." Nasuke dragged the cradle behind him, and walked inside, closing the door behind her. He picked up the black phone.

Dialling up the number, he held it to his ear. After two rings, the line opened up. "Hello, Armani?"

"_Is that you, Kenji? Long time no hear."_

Kenji smirked. "Yeah, well, been busy this year with the crops. Bad weather, you should know."

"_You called me to talk about the weather?"_

"No, no. I have a son here, Franklin, just a babe."

"_You called to talk to me about your son?"_

"I called to ask you to come and pick him up. We can't care for him here, and since our family is on the other side of the world, and you're only a day away, I thought you'd be the best suited."

"_Franklin?...This is because I owe you, isn't it. I'm telling you, Meteor city is not a place to raise a baby."_

Kenji smiled. "Ah, my boy will be making friends with the good crowds in no time."


	7. Pakunoda of Mimi and Syn

"I say she ain't gonna be good for business, Mimi."

Mimi glanced up at Syn, who was sitting across from her at their dining table. He was reading the newspaper as he smoked on his big and expensive cigar, his black fedora perfectly matching his dark green business suit.

They had decided to go out for dinner that night at a local bar – only the best of course. Both she and Syn were on top of the Mafia community, so they couldn't be seen at just any old bar. His sharp blue eyes darted across the headliner of the day, and his scruffy blonde hair just stuck out under his hat.

Mimi sighed. "You think I want her, don't you?"

"I didn't say nothing like that, Mimi."

"Course you did, Syn, you're always saying things like that."

"Ah, pipe down, girl, before the reporters hear you out."

Mimi hushed her voice. "I don't want her."

"Why have her?"

"So no risks are taken on my body. You want risks on my body?"

"I can't play with a broken toy, doll face, so no, I don't like no risks."

Mimi sat up strait in their red and black booth. "I thought you might not." Pushing back her pale blonde, waist length hair in her long ponytail behind her shoulder and over her long black cocktail dress, so she could glare at Syn with both of her brown eyes, she crossed her arms.

"Look, mac," she spoke like she was shooting a dart, "we have her, we deal with her. Nobody is gonna find out, unless they sneak in. Course they'd probably be far more interested in your big guns you left on our couch than a baby girl in the hands of our maid."

Syn looked up at her over the paper. "Mimi, Mimi, Mimi." Dropping the paper on the floor beside him, he took the cigar out of his mouth, doused it out on the table, and flung it over his shoulder. "You don't know the media like I do."

He pointed at himself. "I've been here, at the top, for most of my life now. I just turned forty, so I still got time. I ain't gonna waste it raising some girl you came up with." Mimi uncrossed her arms and laid them out on the table.

"I didn't do it myself, bubbo. Man and woman, remember?" She slid her finger along the table's smooth cover. "I've been doing the big time nearly as long as you. You think I want a little baby bringing me down? No way, I've come too far for anything like that."

Syn smirked, and pulled out his small blue cellphone. He slid it across the table in front of Mimi. "Do it, then, honey. Call her up." Mimi studied the phone for a moment, then picked it up. Dialling in the number, she held it to her ear. "...Hello, Nina."

Nina was their youngest maid of the six they owned, and she was in charge of caring for their child until they could do anything with it. She was small, quiet, and far too caring for her own good, which made her the perfect nanny.

"Nina, darling? Yes, you still have the baby?..Pakunoda? Sure, fine, name her "dog" for all I care. Look, I need you to hang onto this line for a moment, okay? Don't put...Pakunoda down yet." She held the phone down, covering it with her other free hand.

"Now what?" She waited for Syn to respond, who had pulled out another smoke. Inhaling, he breathed out for a long minute.

"...Drop her at "the store", if you would be so kind."

Mimi sneered, and placed the phone to her ear again. "Look, Nina, get that, uh, info card – the name, birthday, all that – and tie it to the baby. NO, I'm not asking you to choke her! Just set her up, and drop her off at "the store," if you would. No questions, just do it."

She clicked the phone off, and closed it. Setting it down on the table, she slid it over to Syn, who picked it up and placed it once again in his pocket. "Well," he sighed, "now that that's settled, she's out of our hands."

Mimi tapped her fingers against the table. "Why the store, Syn? Why not just...give her to some hobo?" Syn snickered. "You think I'm gonna give some hobo a free way ticket to food stamps? No way. The store will know just what to do with her."

He smiled. "I always get my best men from the store. No back story, no info, nothing. They're like a mark on a shirt – you can just erase them after, nothing to find after that. I'm sure the baby will do something with her life out there."

Mimi frowned. "You know, a few of those people don't like us. What if she ends up hating us? Even going so far as to kill us?" Syn shrugged.

"Heck, she probably will hate us. What's she gonna do about it?"


End file.
